My Photo

« the materialist elite | Main | love »

January 16, 2009



I'm still waiting for you to bring her across the pond. There are spirits here waiting to leap as well. :D

gordon phinn

Sounds to me as if Lorna is developing psychic sensitivities along the lines of clairvoyance/ clairsentience. Might be an offshoot of meditation practice and the like, or it might be a spontaneous arising.
I have witnessed such arisings in several friends. Like many things it may or may not be part of the ascension process.
Also I sense you're a little too bashful about your own soul's growth. You may have refused the offer of teaching mentioned in the introduction to your book, but your soul has grown through the process of your research alone.

respectfully offered, gordon phinn


Going to see Lorna on Saturday 16th of the 10th at her book signing in Harrogate. Can't wait, very excited and just know she'll be able to see right through me. This is going to be a humbling experience and it's what I need.


Well, I went to see Lorna today (see above comment) Got there quite early and queued for an hour until she came. She spent time with everyone and gave you a blessing if you wanted it. I sat with her for 5 minutes or so and sobbed like a baby, she thought I'd a cold. I was so overcome I could barely speak. Remarkable, I'm a big ugly 57 year old working class sinner, I've done everything a man shouldn't do, I can get in to a scrap at the drop of a hat (not that I ever wanted to, I just seem to invite psycotic attention)and this morning I was in emotional pieces. Anybody out there doubt this woman? Go and meet her then!I've just been in the presence of someone very, very special.


interesting.. thanks Frank!

anything else happen?


Yes, but I can't tell you what, my wife would go crackers. I went to work with a smile on my face this morning, healing I believe it's called. I've also met some switched on people since I read The Secret History, it's as if things are coming together. I gave up believing in 'coincidence' years ago. As for meeting Lorna, back in September I'd never heard of her, now I have met her I'm full to busting with,,, a really good feeling. I'll keep you posted as things progress.

Royal Arch Mason

Good to hear it

Best of luck and do keep us posted!


I was thinking today about a dream I had a couple of years back. As I say, I'm a factory labourer and at times in my life I have been as far from 'Good' as is possible! So, this dream coming to someone like me is bewildering. The scene was dark but off to the left on a hill I knew there was a Monastery. Just slighlty to my right was a kind of archway about 8 feet high and two and a half feet wide. I knew that it was made from the bones of very religious monks. In the centre of this archway was a small cloth bundle containing a portion of the heart of Saint Bede. I had to take this and keep it safe, which I did. None of this was frightening, but as I say it's bewildering. I had to read up on Bede to even begin to grasp it. I have sent this one to Lorna on her website to see if any light can be thrown on it. Any ideas anyone please?


I will have a think over it - how interesting though. Did you know of St. Bede before hand?


It's as hard to say 'no' as it is to say 'yes'. I have always had a love of history (which is why I bought The Secret History in September, thinking it was something altogether different,I'm so glad I did buy it though, it's opened doors no error) and have come across St. Bede before but no more than I have read (or was taught as a child)about St. Francis for example. I have never come across him as a 'Religious' historical figure, just a purely historical figure, if that makes sense. There is a St. Beads School in Bradford which is about 10 miles from where I live but I never give the place any thought I'll perhaps pass it twice a year on my way someplace else, nor has it had any connection to me that I know of. This kind of thing for me has to be 100% honest or it's not worth the writing, and I would only be decieving myself, so the only answer I can give is, yes I knew of him, but then I knew of William the Conqueror and Cour de Lion and Shakespeare also. If I thought St. Bede had any special meaning to me, or that I had been influenced by him in any way then I would honestly say so. I'm just looking for an answer. I learned since that St. Bede wrote about the early English Church so there may be some sort of 'English' dimension going on. I simply don't know. I suppose I'll learn what it was for in God's good time. I don't know if that will help at all, but it's not the first strange thing that's happened to me over the years. Lorna will answer it if she gets to hear of it I'm sure.

Royal Arch Mason

Thank you Frank, it is very interesting and I like your approach to it. . I'll mull it over


On another note and related to The Secret History this time. I was listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2 t'other week and every day was a different theme on poetry, love, war, loss, and the day on love I was half listening and the poem was by Christopher Marlowe, whom I had just read about in the above. The line which jumped out at me was (and I have just had to find it on Google - I wouldn't say I'd remebered it) "Come live with me, and be my love... My vegatable love should grow vaster than empires and more slow." Am I the only person on this planet who read that book and went, "I must be a mad then, it all makes perfect sense to me." ???? Not that I was aware of much of it before, I'd come across Steiner and couldn't make moss nor sand of him, not that I was supposed to by the sound of things. Pearls before swine so to speak. 'Oink'


I caught that too. It was a good show. Thanks for the hat-tip I'll hunt out that poem


The Spirit Leaps.. indeed it does. Yesterday afternoon I'd just walked back to work from lunch and I looked around at my workmates and thought, 'If this lot knew I'd started talking to Angels they'd think I was a nutter.' Not that it would bother me if they did please understand. I sat down at that infernal machine I work on and Salisbury Hill came on the radio containing the line, "My friends would think I was a nut." I didnt know wether to laugh, cry, get down on my knees or put the kettle on. So I told one of them and guess what, he agreed I was a nut. P.S. I'm getting a wonderful intense feeling at the back of my forehead since I met Lorna. Reading the Secret History for the third time, can't put it down.


Just been told by my lovely wife that herself and her mother want to go and see Lorna in Manchester next month. I'm truly already on fire. Talk about blessed. Honestly don't know how to describe the feeling.


Fantastic! I like the way you think these things, there is something about your posts that is rather similar to the zeitgeist of our times -someone, with all due respect, who although works in a perhaps rather mundane way still clearly possess faculties more closely identified with the Divine..

Good Luck for Lorna.. and yes . . I know that feeling well!


Many thanks RAM. All my life has been a charade, what did Shakespeare say "Players on a stage"? I have always fely like I don't fit in anywhere, and, as a result have tried to fit in wherever I have found myself wandering. Believe me, I have wandered into some pretty bad places, and becuase I can 'act' I have become whatever it is the people involved wanted me to become, in order to be 'accepted'. Now, I have read The Secret History and both of Lornas works I'm somehow awake. Things make sense, 'Man know thyself' being at the forefront of my thinking. I have been lonely in a crowd, out on a limb with my own family, in tears at something I've written. Well, from now on in if I don't fit then I don't fit. I have had pointers that I'm 'different' before and err.. not so much ignored them but FAILED to act upon them. Lorna mentions 'the tingles' well I've had them for years and not known what they were. I say "Sorry" to God each and evey day, and I mean it too. Any how thanks, whoever you are and God bless. You never know, we might meet one day, if we already have'nt at some other time. Via con Dios Amigo! Right now it's washing up time and back to graft.


Forgive my ignorance,just had to look up 'Zeitgeist' to find out what it means. From the Latin, Genius Saeculi or Guardian Spirit of the Century. That'll be a blast next time I'm on the alloment. As ever, thanks.


You are a one-of-a-kind! In a (very) good way.

Best of luck on your path and yes, I sincerly hope that our paths do cross!


I was working this afternoon and thinking of what's going on inside and out, my head was... strange and I started making notes on incoming thoughts. It's all so simple really, and as a latter day serf it has to be. I may not be much good at spelling, maths are out of the question and the sciences may well as be in Swahili, but I know when I'm being done over!

Popes, Bishops, Vicars and Priests have all conspired to keep 'things' from such folk as myself, maybe with quite good reason in my case, it remains to be seen 'Oh, you can have God Frankie boy, but it'll be on our terms old son.' Drip fed from the lectern and told I'd got one shot at Heaven. If that's the case then I'm well scuppered. They're wasting their time as well as mine because every so often someone comes along and upsets their cosy little apple cart. The Sanhedrin were none too chuffed when Jesus Christ rode into town and threw the bankers of the day into the streets. History is be-jewelled with 'outsiders' coming along and shunting things forward, Ghandi, Jean dArc, St Francis and now Lorna Byrne's here.

And just how is God revealed to these wonderful beings? Explosive visions? Magnificent dreams? Revelations? The Damascus road? Or were they preached 'AT' from a sanitized pulpit? Just what are the great and good a'feared of? That they cannot control the love of God made maifest in mere men and women? Why do they have to try and compartmentalise everything, say these poeple are mad. Then deify them once they've killed them off and got them out of the way? They may as well move aside and let those that will get on with the job at hand because the other fellow's troops are massing (any inner city street will prove that one).

How does it matter how you get back to God just as long as you do? How can I put it.... take an ornate oriental table worth thousands. Carved to perfection, the craftsmanship exquisite, beyond belief in it's detail of Gods, humans, nymphs and animals. Breathtaking! Well, some folk might not like it becuase they can't see the plain grain of the wood. The plain grain, honest in it's utter simplicity yet nonetheless just as wonderful.

That for me is like the differnce between Jonathan Blacks Secret History and Lorna Byrnes works. They're both pointing the way back home and hey, there's not an Archbishop in sight. (I'd get sacked if they caught me scribbling, ha!)


Blake touched on the same feeling you get from the Clergy with his Poem "The Garden of Love"

"I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires."

Where as you've noticed the better way as articulated in the Little Vagabond..

"Dear mother, dear mother, the church is cold,
But the ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm;
Besides I can tell where I am used well,
Such usage in Heaven will never do well.

But if at the church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We'd sing and we'd pray all the live-long day,
Nor ever once wish from the church to stray.

Then the parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.

And God, like a father rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as he,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel."


This is astonishing! For more reasons than you think. It is my intention (he said from on high) to attempt to write the life of Jesus who became the Christ in a series of poems. Nativity, boyhood, baptism, ministry, miracles right through to his resurection. I dont' know what to do about the missing years, there's too much spurious material out there. Over the years I have tried without success to find my way on to the path. I went to an Evangelical church in my village and people were really whooping it up and being slain in the spirit. I felt nowt! Another time I spent some time with a bunch of 'New Agers/Spiritualists' and got my fingers badly burned. (No that's wrong,very badly burned) No matter how many churches or denominations I look at I simply don't fit! And yet I can weep at the thought of sitting at the feet of Jesus as a child back in his day. I can sob for the man who was given his sight back by Jesus, jsut imagine that the first thing you ever, ever, saw were the eyes of Christ looking back at you? Wow! I love Churches even if I don't care over much for the clergy,and yet the most peacful place I ever visited was the Synagogue in Florence back when I had a decent job. Many thanks for the above.


My pleasure. It's always great fun to read over Blake again. He "Got It" very well


Back in June I/we lost my younger brother to the cancer. I spent his last few months with us Earthside in his room at the local hospice. Each evening I would drive on and stay until he dozed off. After work on Saturday mornings I would walk the one and a half miles to see him as my wife had the car. For the most part the walk is rural, and one early summers afternoon as I looked over the pasture land a zephyr blew across the grass and transformed the colour of it. I hadn't then read The Secret History but Im with the young man in the walk in woods. For me this was from God to lift my low spirit. My long suffering wife and I always say when we see the shafts of sunlight throught clouds that it's God. My brother was everything I'm not, kind, considerate, honest, loyal and loving. I miss him so very badly and look forward to seeing him when it's my turn to pass over. So with apologies to teachers and childrens poets everwhere...

And the teacher told her pupils seated
That certain truths must be repeated
That skies are blue and grasses green
The greenest green you've ever seen...

The wild boy raised his hand up high
And teacher nodded with a sigh
'It's not true what we've been told
'Cos when winds blow, the grass turns gold'.

Royal Arch Mason aka RAM

very sorry to hear about your lost. I am sure that one day all will be restored

The comments to this entry are closed.